Accidents of Faith and Nature
by Downlikeyourinternetconnection
Summary: A bit of an angst-ier, different take on Sugar: from the future. Sugar and her girlfriend, Harmony, go back to the past so Sugar can get to know her mother. Brittana, Faberry, Sugarmony.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Accidents of Faith and Nature

**Pairing(s)**: Brittany/Santana, Sugar/Harmony, Quinn/Rachel

**Rating**: PG-13 for now

**Spoilers**: Spoilers from season 1 and onward. Basically, anything that has happened is fair game.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own _Glee _or the characters of _Glee _or any likeness to the characters. Not making any money writing this and all that jazz. The title is from the Snow Patrol song "The Lightning Strike (Part II)"

**Summary**: A bit of an angst-ier, different take on Sugar: from the future. Sugar and her girlfriend, Harmony go back to the past so Sugar can get to know her mother. Brittana, Faberry, Sugarmony.

* * *

><p>"Brittany!"<p>

The way Quinn rushes into the room, voice loud and stern, is enough to scare even the doctor—an older man with snow white hair and fragile shaky hands—who glances up, eyes blown wide and glassy like saucers.

Quinn sounds angry.

She's not though.

She frightened.

It's easy to tell when Quinn's scared or angry and this is definitely scared.

Brittany doesn't blame her; she was scared too when she got the call from the hospital.

She's less scared, more worried, now that she's figured out what's going on.

"Quinn, this is Doctor Harper," Brittany introduces.

Quinn has questions, Brittany can see them pouring from her eyes, but Brittany won't be able to answer those questions until Quinn gets the most mundane ones answered by the good doctor.

"Hi, I'm Quinn Fabray," Quinn stills his slightly shaking hand with her handshake. "I'm Harmony's mother,"

"Oh!" the aging doctor bristles. "Mrs. Fabray!" His tone kind of hitches, like he's surprised. Most people are; Harmony is pretty much all Rachel until she starts scheming and then she's so Quinn it's kind of scary. "As I was just telling Mrs. Lopez here," _Pierce-Lopez_, Brittany doesn't correct him. "all of our scans have come back completely normal. In fact, it just appears as if your daughters have fallen into a deep sleep,"

"A deep sleep?"

Once again, she's scared, but the way Quinn parrots him makes her seem angry, like the medical staff are so incompetent that all they've managed to come up with is absurdity.

"Of course, our test results thus far are inconclusive. We're trying our best, Mrs. Fabray, and we will continue to exhaust all options until we've come up with a conclusive diagnosis and treatment for this ailment," he offers kindly but Quinn just blinks in shock.

"Hey, maybe it's like Mono. I mean, it'd make sense for them to get it from each other. And remember when San got mono? She kept falling asleep even when we were trying to do homework," she means to placate Quinn, to offer a viable diagnosis until the doctor leaves and she can tell Quinn what she really knows, however, she realizes she said the wrong thing almost instantly when Quinn's eyes widen and her jaw slackens a bit in shock.

"Quinn, I—"

Doctor Harper seems to take Brittany sticking her foot in her mouth as a good excuse to flee Quinn's perceived wrath because he mumbles something noncommittally before heading for the door.

"They were going to tell you, Quinn," Brittany explains. "Rachel too!" she adds. "It's just you guys are so busy,"

"I'm not that busy, Brittany,"

Brittany totally begs to differ; she almost asks if Quinn actually knows how many times Harmony has been home in the last couple of weeks because Quinn hasn't even called to check if she is indeed staying with Brittany; she doesn't say it though because Quinn is really edging towards anger now.

"I mean how could she start dating a girl without even telling me! I haven't even spoken to her about protection or anything,"

"Whoa," Brittany would laugh at that if she wasn't so offended. "First of all, she's a _teenager_, Quinn. And I'm her godmother; she talks to me, you know? And secondly, it's not like she's dating just _any_ girl. Harmony and Sug have known each other since they were born,"

Quinn sighs.

It's never really been hard to make Quinn feel bad but Brittany hates doing it because making Quinn feel bad kind of makes her feel bad too.

"I know, Britt. I'm just… surprised and scared," Quinn admits, her face softening when she takes in her daughter, who is laying on the hospital bed next to Sugar's, her slowly rising chest and flushed cheeks the only real signs of life.

She actually looks quite peaceful but Brittany doesn't say it aloud for fear of upsetting Quinn again.

Quinn grabs the sleeping girl's hand, stroking softly.

"When you called, I just—they didn't even call me themselves, Britt,"

"Well, because I'm her emergency contact," Brittany points out logically although she realizes her mistake when Quinn whips around to look at her. "Sorry, I—I discussed it with Rachel. I thought she'd tell you,"

Now Quinn looks hurt and that really makes Brittany feel bad.

"It's just, you know, since you and Rach—" _split up_; she doesn't say that part out loud. "Rachel's so far and you're really busy. It took nine tries and sixteen text messages before you actually even answered the phone when I called and I can leave class whenever I want. You know my students don't care and my TA is kind of really glad when I leave. He still thinks I'm a bit crazy. But that's what an emergency contact is about though, right? Who can get here first?"

Quinn nods her understanding although she still doesn't look all too pleased. Her concern for her daughter quickly overshadows her upset though.

"I just don't understand what could cause this. They both just—fell asleep?"

Brittany knows exactly what could have caused this but now that the time is here for her to explain, she kind of doesn't even know where to start.

"Quinn, remember when I did my dissertation at UMB?" She broaches, starting easy.

She knows Quinn remembers, most people found it surprising enough that she got into MIT for her undergrad, they were downright shocked when she started grad school at UMB—she had offers from Harvard, Stanford, Princeton and even Oxford, but Santana had already given up so much for her to go to MIT and when San got into Johns Hopkins, her decision was made.

"Brittany, what does that—?"

"Remember how I couldn't tell you what it was about?"

Quinn nods slowly, obviously confused.

"I couldn't tell you because what I was working on was certified by the government. It's restricted information,"

"Brittany, what are you—Maybe you've been watching too many movies or something,"

Brittany almost laughs at how her friends still do that—still accredit most of what she says to her just being ditzy even though she's pushing 45 with a doctorate in physics and teaching at an Ivy League university.

"I'm completely serious, Quinn,"

"Serious? About what? Are you gonna tell me you're like a spy or something and someone has done this to our daughters to get back at you?"

Maybe Quinn's the one who has been watching too many movies.

"I—"This is a nightmare to explain. "I started working on this machine in high school. It was kind of a joke back then and then I stumbled onto quantum mechanics and as I dug deeper and deeper into it, I was almost convinced I could make it work. There was a professor at MIT—I mean, clearly it wasn't my grades they were interested in—he kind of took me under his wing. Eventually, we made it work,"

"A machine? You're not making any sense. What does this have to do with Harmony and Sugar?"

"It's a machine to hop realities,"

"Realities?"

"Except there are so many realities, so many branches, I mean, every decision, every step spawns a new reality so it's almost impossible to encompass all of them thus the machine really just travels along the path of the largest reality,"

"Brittany?"

"Time," she explains even though Quinn is staring at her, lips parted in shock.

"Brittany, I don't understand. What are you—are you saying that you've built like a time machine?"

"Fully functioning,"

Quinn looks like she may faint but Brittany really hopes she doesn't because she needs to continue explaining.

"This is why Santana thought your dissertation would make you famous," Quinn pieces together and Brittany can't help but smile at that.

No one believed in her quite like Santana.

Of course, she chose making sure the technology stayed out of the wrong hands over fame although she still worries sometimes—mostly when elections roll around—how her technology is being used.

"So, Harmony and Sugar?"

She was just getting to that part.

"See, the thing about the machine is transporting a body is difficult, I'd say even impossible if there wasn't this guy in my molecular physics class who is on the cusp of a breakthrough. So, without the ability to transport bodies, when we laid the blueprint for the machine, we had to find a way to recreate bodies,"

"You created a cloning device?"

"Well, the technology for it was already there; we just created a use for it. The machine, then, instead of transporting a person, transports a person's psyche to the new body. It's actually pretty safe. Things don't really get dangerous unless someone is transporting themselves to a reality in which they already exist because in that case, a new body isn't created, the psyche is just transported into the body that is already there. Then you run the risk of one of the psyches getting lost or destroyed or something,"

"So, Harmony and Sugar used your machine?"

"Yes," Brittany affirms, and then upon Quinn's pointed glare, adds, "Without my knowledge or consent. The transportation can take a couple of days, which is probably why they both collapsed at school but right now, what we're looking at is two bodies without their psyches, "

"And are they alright? Like, what you said before about psyches being damaged—"

"They've gone back to a time before either of them were born; their psyches are safe,"

"But, why would they—?"

"I have a theory," Which is why she's so worried. "I think—I mean, well—Sugar's been asking a lot about San lately,"

Quinn's face falls.

"Oh, Britt!"

Quinn's hugging her in an instant, her palm rubbing her back soothingly.

"It's alright," it's not really. "I mean, it was bound to happen. "She would have loved you. She already did," was only going to sate her for so long,"

Quinn pulls back, worry creasing her brow.

"But you said they've gone back before they were born. The shooting happened—"

"That's kind of the part I'm most worried about," Brittany admits. "They haven't gone back to then," It'd be no use anyhow; Brittany has gone back to that date so many times, she's gone back to days, weeks, years before it even, she's warned San, forced her to stay home, once, she has even taken the life that took San's, God, she's risked her psyche so many times that it's terrifying but it seems even time travel can't stop death.

"When have they gone back to, Britt?" Quinn asks, and then it seems, the possibilities spawn new worries. "Oh my God, what if something happens to them there? What happens if they change the past? What happens to the future?"

Too many questions asked at once, as usual, Brittany diverts back to the first one.

"They've gone back to our senior year,"

"Our senior year?" Quinn blinks slowly. "Nothing noteworthy happened in our senior year,"

"Our senior year of _high school_,"

"Oh," The possibilities seem to hit Quinn like a freight train. "They could change _everything_,"

Brittany nods.

"In this case, _yes_. The technology for them to come back to this reality hasn't been built yet so there is a huge possibility that their psyches grow with their new bodies and they grow into the future they create,"

"Brittany!" Quinn looks horrified which actually offends Brittany for a moment, because seriously, could Quinn have so little faith in her? She's clearly not just gonna let their daughters float into new realities.

"Which is why I'm going back to get them,"

"What?" But Brittany, you said—you'll already have a body then! What if you damage the psyche of Brittany back then? What if you damage the psyche of _you_?"

"Trust me, I've thought about all the things that could go wrong," Travelling into the body of her seventeen year old self both thrills and terrifies her. "I mean, if I damage the psyche of old Brittany then I grow into that future—"

"And I'm left here with you, Sugar and Harmony basically in comas while you live in this new reality your time travel has created?"

Brittany wants to say that isn't true, but there really is no way to sugarcoat it so she nods.

"Brittany, no. If you're going, I'm coming with you,"

"No," She won't let it happen. There are more risks if both of them go. "I need you to stay here. Rachel will be confused. I'll need you to explain it to her,"

"Brittany!"

"Look, I'm really sorry about this, Quinn, but I'm gonna fix it. I've already dialed the date to go back. My psyche is much more accustomed to the travel so I'll probably be gone in a couple of hours. I'd rather travel at home, so I know this body will be safe,"

"I trust you, Britt," Quinn resigns, "But the technology? You said it isn't there yet! Will you be able to get what you need in Lima, Ohio circa 2011?"

"I honestly don't know, Quinn," Brittany admits. "But if there is one person in 2011 who can help me, it's my old professor from MIT, Dr. Motta,"

Quinn nods, although there are worry lines on her forehead that Brittany wishes she had the word to soothe away.

"I don't really know the etiquette for time travel, Britt. But, safe travels?" She hugs her tight, "please, hurry back!"

* * *

><p><strong>TBC.. I'm thinking about chapter switching between Brittany, Santana and Harmony in the past and Faberry bonding and working through their troubles in the presentfuture but I dunno. This story is probably crazy. Review please or hit me up on my tumblr: downlikeyourinternet (dot) tumblr (dot) com**


	2. Chapter 2

The worst thing about time travel to a previous or future body is unconsciously having the worst time travel timing.

The actual travel isn't so bad.

The first time she was asked to describe what it felt like, she said it felt like a pirouette.

A few more travels and she realized she was wrong. It's not like _a_ pirouette at all. It's a series of them. Just spinning and spinning and spinning until gravity sweeps a person off of their feet and flings them into something— or _someone_.

It sounds nauseating.

It can be, she supposes, but she likes it which may be weird or whatever but the travel really isn't the bad part.

The unconscious horrible timing is the bad part.

And it happens to Brittany quite a lot.

Like one time, for instance, when she traveled to the future and her future self was in the middle of a board meeting and she had absolutely _no idea _what was going on so she's pretty sure everyone thought she was crazy which kind of sucked because it seemed almost like they didn't already think she was crazy which meant she probably undid all of her future self's work convincing her colleagues that she isn't clinically insane.

That was actually a little bit funny.

There was that one time she was thrown into her past self while crossing the road though. Totally scary.

A couple of times, she's even traveled into her body during sex. They were both with Santana though so it wasn't bad but had she been having sex with anyone other than Santana, she'd probably have freaked out so hard and that would have freaked the other person out and that'd probably go down as the worst sex of her lifetime.

As far as her time traveling journeys go, this one is tame.

When she comes into herself, she's in her room—her old room of course, the one in her parents' house in Lima.

It's exactly like she remembers it. She hasn't been back here in a couple of years, either by time travel or regular travel, so she doesn't really even trust her instinct on it being _exactly_ the same but she's in the past so she figures that kind of trumps her memory anyway.

There's a text book in her lap, open perfectly to the center pages which lets her know she hadn't really been doing her work in the first place so she doesn't feel bad when she pushes the book off of her.

It's Spanish, the text book, so she _really_ doesn't feel bad; she's never been in danger of failing Spanish, she always has—

"Britt?"

_Oh God_.

Her heart rate at least triples, blood bruising her veins with the force of its beating as her door slowly creaks open.

This is the second worst/best/most terrifying/most wonderful thing about time travel to a previous body.

_Santana_.

"Britts?"

The door closes softly, the latch just barely clicking into place.

She knows Santana is standing there, thumb rubbing circles into door knob, back sagging against the aged wood.

It's trademark Santana.

She's entered this room, her room, their room, any room they've inhabited alone together for even moments, _just like this_.

Brittany doesn't even have to look to see it. It's imprinted into her brain; Santana at fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, pleats from her Cheerios skirt falling in waves against her thighs, Cheerios top slightly creasing against her sides, dark hair and tan skin golden against the dulling white of her bedroom door; Santana at twenty-one, glasses perched on the crown of her head, tangling in the strands of hair come lose from her messy bun, blue jeans flaring and tank top almost too bright against the cloudy gray of their urban Boston apartment; Santana at twenty-four, bright Disney character printed scrubs—Brittany always picked them and although Santana would never admit she liked them, she continued to wear them because they made the kids happy—offset against the heavy tawny colored doors in their elegant Baltimore condo; Santana at twenty-eight, white coat against white doors, Disney characters shining bright from between the coat's lapels.

Brittany doesn't have to look; she really doesn't want to either but it's like particle attraction, she swears, because she just can't help it. Her eyes are drawn to Santana, to the lines of her legs, the curves of her hips, the planes of her shoulders, the soft plumpness of her lips, her eyes.

_God. _

_Her eyes. _

Brittany's heart strings pull so hard she swears they pluck like a struck rubber band against her chest.

She never expects it to hurt this much but it does.

It always does.

"Brittany, are you ok?"

Santana's moving closer, fingertips brushing against her forehead so gently that she barely feels it.

Santana's always been gentle with her, even since they were kids. She used to wonder where it came from—the gentleness—when one second Santana's eyes could be hard, cold like coal and then the next they were so soft like pools of chocolate she could just sink into. Intrinsically, she knew that the softness was Santana, that the soothing caresses and eyelashes that batted like butterfly wings against her cheeks was the real her but it wasn't until her residency when she dragged Brittany at one o clock in the morning into the hospital with her, into the room of a thirteen year old patient—a ballet student— who was gearing up for knee surgery, that Brittany realized just how much of her the tenderness really was.

All of her.

_The touch_, the way she brushed her fingertips over the girl's knuckles in reassurance as she spoke about glee and Cheerios and how performing filled her up.

_The smile_, the way happiness just burst forth from her lips, lighting her and putting her on display in a way even the short skirts and low cut tops never could.

_The honesty_, how it crept into her tone, painting her vocal cords with honey that dripped from her lips and calmed even the chaos of a pediatric hospital ward.

That serenity seems almost out of place here with Santana in form fitting red instead of the sleek white of her lab coat.

That serenity _is_ out of place here.

Even though Santana has always been nothing but gentle with her, _this_—the memories she has of Santana back _now (_back in high school) being this open, this gentle, this soft with her, are rare.

She feels like she's stealing it, this moment.

This isn't the woman that gave up the college of her choice—her father's alma mater—so they could be together. This isn't the woman that christened Sugar with her tears, cradling their baby against her chest, while Brittany looked on, exhausted, from the hospital bed. This isn't the woman who was unafraid to parade through grocery stores, amusement parks, children's' concerts with Brittany's fingers intertwined in hers and Sugar, bouncing happily on her shoulders.

This woman—this _girl_—in front of her isn't her Santana.

She doesn't have a Santana. _Not anymore_. So she's stealing this girl, this perfect, gorgeous, smart girl from someone else. From herself.

"Britt, you're scaring me," Fingers flicker across her cheek, marring her with memories. "You look like you've seen a ghost,"

Not that far off, she supposes.

The guilt is so instant, that gnawing feeling that eats away at the pit of her stomach anytime she comes back to a Santana.

This is not hers.

She wants so desperately for it to be but it's not.

The longer she stays here, the more it'll hurt, she knows it.

The longer she stays, the more the yearning will eat away at her when she gets back home—back to her Santana-less home.

She needs to find Sugar and Harmony.

She'll find Doctor Motta first; maybe he'll know how to locate them.

Maybe he'll know how to get them home quickly.

That's what she needs to be doing right now, not leaning into the soft palm that's cupping her cheek.

"Santana," she places her hand over Santana's, carefully removing it from anywhere that could distract her—anywhere that could clout her logic. "I need to find a phonebook,"

* * *

><p><strong>Hey guys. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and put this story on alert and stuff. Please continue to do so, that'd be awesome. Next chapter will be what Sugar and Harmony are up to in the past, then I might flick to Rachel and Quinn in the presentfuture. **

**Please review guys, tell me what you think! **

**Also, as always, you can hit me up on my Tumblr: downlikeyourinternet (dot) tumblr (dot) com**


	3. Chapter 3

"I feel sick,"

She feels beyond sick.

She feels like she's been shoved into a washing machine on spin cycle.

Even worse, she feels like someone else has shoved a washing machine—on spin cycle—into her brain and it just keeps spinning, spiraling and rattling against her brain's synapses.

She might throw up.

She turns to do just that when something damp cushions the space between her splayed fingers.

She presses her palm down hard, the unknown material absorbing the weight of the new pressure but releasing its dampness into her skin.

_Eww_.

She wipes the moisture off onto her skirt, glancing down to see exactly what she just had her hand in.

Grass.

That's weird; she's surrounded by it.

Like, she's in as field or something.

_So trippy_.

Maybe she mistook the flu medication for her vitamins again—they should really make those look much different.

Or maybe she's dreaming.

She has some pretty weird dreams sometimes.

This one might have to take the cupcake though because it was super weird. At first it was like she was flying and then she was being crammed into a space far too small and then spinning. Spinning like she couldn't stop.

Just thinking about it still makes her feel sick.

Why would her dreams place her in a field though? And why would she dream about herself wondering why her dreams would place her in a field?

She blames it on that weird movie that she watched the other night. She really doesn't know what possessed her to watch something that her mom had on Blu-ray disc of all things but she guesses she was just curious since she hears people say all the time how Leonardo DiCaprio was so much better before he started doing the Godfather remakes. She doesn't really know if she'd count it as him acting better but she does know that the movie sucked so bad! Like, why would anyone make a movie about people hoping into other people's dreams and sharing a dream space and stuff? And they made it seem so hard too when the guy at the arcade a couple of miles from her house does it for 5 bucks using only a helmet.

Sometimes, when she and her mom jog by the arcade on Saturday mornings and see the lines to go in, her mom snaps her fingers and says, "damn, I could have made that technology," and then she tells a story about her and momma and a dentist and Britney Spears before she was a has-been. Usually, when someone brings up her momma, she's all ears but that story is weird even for her.

"Sugar!"

Her name floats to her ears, sounding airy but not so far off.

"Sug, come here!"

That voice definitely belongs to Harmony.

She sounds excited.

Maybe she finally hit that D6 that she's been trying to get. That would explain why they're in a field. Her house has awesome acoustics and all but her cat kind of gets spooked whenever he hears anything higher than a middle C. That why he gets scared so often whenever Sugar sings.

"Sugar!"

"Alright, I'm coming,"

Jeez, Harmony's even impatient in her (_maybe_) dreams.

At least she doesn't feel like she's been spinning when she gets on her feet though. There's no dizziness but there's dissemblance, like something's not quite right.

She shakes her head softly, trying to shake the feeling as she moves towards the voice of her girlfriend.

The closer she gets, the more sounds she can make out; like cars. She can hear them zipping quickly across gritty asphalt but even they sound strange. _Raw_. _Mechanical_.

"Sugar, look!"

She's close enough that her fingertips can brush against Harmony's shoulder. Close enough that she can see what Harmony is staring at so intently.

It's a sign.

Just a plain, green street sign planted into the ground.

She inches even closer, squinting to make out the bolded white words.

_Welcome to—_

_Welcome to Lima, OH_.

"Oh my gosh!" she stifles her gasp with her palm. "Does this mean?" _There's no way! _"Do you think?" she can't even say it for fear of being wrong. "Oh my gosh! Harmony, did it work?"

Harmony's lips curl into a slow smile.

"Aunt Britt really should have worked out a better landing mechanism on that thing, huh? I hardly think landing in some abandoned corn ditch somewhere is safe,"

Sugar really can't suppress her excited squeal.

"Harmony!" She flings her arms around her girlfriend's neck, excitement crawling its way into her vocal cords. "Do you know what this means?"

It means everything.

It really means everything.

"We have to put the plan into action immediately!" she decides. "We'll find McKinley a.s.a.p. and we'll both enroll and—"

"Actually, Sugar,"

Sugar dislikes those words just as much as she dislikes the face Harmony is making along with them—she's used to that face; it's that I-know-I-said-I-wouldn't-but-I'm-gonna-dissapoint-you-again-Sugar face.

"Actually what?" she doesn't mean to sound so hopeless but she does.

"Don't get me wrong; I'm so happy for you and what you're doing here. I know there's nothing you want more. This—it's something you should experience completely and fully so I don't want to distract you, which is why I kind of have this separate plan, something for me to kind of dig into while I'm here, you know?

"Don't you dare do that!" Sugar is fuming—mostly hurt, but anger burns through it. "Don't you pretend like you've come up with this plan to benefit me!" Annoyance flares through her and she kind of has this problem where her body and her mouth run a million times faster than her brain and seem to take a turn towards histrionics which is probably why she takes off—true cinema style (with the heels and everything)—down the side of a gritty high way in Lima, OH Circa 2011 before her brain can even stop her.

"Sugar!" Harmony calls after her, but Sugar is having none of it; she spins on her heels, casting Harmony with a glare.

"Do you have to have some ulterior motive for everything, Harmony? Like do you have to be so selfish?" It's in moments like these the hurt drips out of her and harshness seems to rise to her defense just as quickly. "I ask you to do this one thing for me—this one thing _with _me and even _this _you manage to make about you,"

She takes off again—knees wobbly beneath her weight as her boot heels dig into the side of the road—with Harmony 's voice floating to her ears and Harmony right on her heels.

It there was an ideal time for her relationship to begin to crumble, she's most certain 2011 isn't it.

* * *

><p><strong>TBC… <strong>

**Oh, more drama. Damn this drama-filled, relationship angst of a time travel story! **

**But still review please! **


	4. Chapter 4

Rachel, ever the actress, seems to flow effortlessly between panic, sadness, disbelief and anger before she settles finally on her usual game of blame Quinn.

Their arguing seems to have even kept the rotating nurse at bay because she hasn't just "popped in" since the last time she came by to do vitals when she found Rachel absolutely hysterical. Quinn almost wishes she would make another appearance or something, _anything_ really to stop this seething rage between them.

She gets no such luck as Rachel moves smoothly into reason number one billion and one why this is Quinn's fault and then Quinn snaps.

"What exactly did you want me to do, Rachel?" she asks sharply, voice already hoarse from overuse. She's tired; she's absolutely exhausted with _this_, with the arguing and the yelling matches and the blame game. It's like she and Rachel can't even hold a conversation anymore—not even with their daughter on a hospital bed— without it simmering into something angry and spiteful.

"Well, perhaps if you were watching her more closely—"

"Watching her more closely?" Quinn's frustration hits a brand new peak; she's been doing her best to be level-headed but Rachel is purposely pushing her buttons and all of her emotions feel like they're stretching her in about a million different directions. "She's 16, Rach! She's fucking 16; the only thing that I can tell you for certain was going through her mind was how to hide just about everything she's planning from me,"

"Maybe if you had talked to her more,"

And that shatters what very little restraint she has left.

"You know what? That goes both ways, Rachel," she won't deny that since their split, there has been a fair share of pettiness from both of them; she's taken it and she's dished it out, but this is a low she hadn't even expected. This is blind stabbing below the belt and Rachel knows it. "Your show is fucking important; I get that, she gets it, the world gets it, but you could call more. You could visit more. Hell, you could have at least taken her to the show, Rach. She idolizes you and your show opened three weeks ago, _three _weeks and you couldn't find the time to just swing by and take her out for the weekend?"

God, Quinn almost ripped them up herself when she went into Harmony's room to find her school uniform and found, neatly cut and piled on her desk, a stack of reviews from the opening of Rachel's newest show. It's so fucking obvious how hard Harmony constantly tries to impress Rachel and it's almost sickening how easily Rachel just ignores her efforts.

"We both have our flaws, Quinn," Rachel concedes, dignified and stoic in her apology, as usual.

It's an apology nonetheless, a definite lull in the arguing, so Quinn will take it.

"Absolutely right we do,"

"And I didn't mean to make it seem like I was solely blaming you for this," And she absolutely could have fooled Quinn on that point because Quinn's almost certain that's exactly what she was trying to do. "I'm just scared, Quinn. I mean, I trust Brittany, I do, but all of this is just so unbelievable, you know?" she shakes her head softly, a much needed calm after that storm. "And all the risks you told me about, it's just—," the hurt and worry that flits across her delicate features is heartbreaking within itself. "What if we don't get her back, Quinn?"

"We will," Quinn says, hand moving to rest atop Rachel's. It's instinct really; offering comfort to Rachel. She doesn't even realize she's done it until Rachel's fingers intertwine in hers and squeeze, something that she's pretty sure is instinctual too.

Their soft breaths mingle, creating soundtrack to the backdrop of rhythmic, beeping machines, monitoring nothing but deep sleep.

Rachel sighs, breath weighty but taking no weight off of her.

She squeezes harder, clinging onto Quinn's hope.

"How are you so sure?"

"I'm not," Quinn admits. "I'm not, but she has to be ok. They all have to be ok," Quinn doesn't know what she'd do with herself if they weren't; Harmony's her life and Sugar's her only goddaughter and Brittany is her best-friend; She just can't imagine what she'd do without them.

Rachel seems to understand her unspoken meaning because she gives her hand another tight squeeze, smiling one of her soft sad smiles.

"I just don't understand what they were thinking doing something so dangerous," Rachel sighs quietly. "I mean, I understand Sugar's curiosity, but Harmony—?"

"Harmony's more than a little curious," Quinn reasons, "I mean, we haven't been quite so honest with her about our past, Rach,"

"You mean _you _haven't been quite so honest with her. I never wanted to lie to her in the first place, Quinn,"

That makes Quinn recoil from their intimate touch quickly.

"We agreed to wait until she was older to tell her though. That was something we explicitly agreed on," she reminds her.

"Yes, but given the nature of your relationship with Noah as of late—"

"He's staying with me, Rachel," Quinn cuts her off, that dissipating rage rising once again, because Rachel _always _does this; she always passive-aggressively turns these tiny things into huge deals. "He's staying with me because Beth lives nearby and he's trying to bond with her. You of all people should have some sympathy when it comes to something like that,"

"And I think it's wonderful he's reconnecting with his daughter, just as I think it's wonderful that you've reconnected with Beth, but you had a baby in high school, Quinn. That's something you've had to grow with and learn from, and it's something Harmony should know. She and Beth get along great; she deserves to know that Beth's her sister,"

"And she will know," Quinn concedes. "When the time's right,"

"And when will that right time be, Quinn? After you and Noah have _reconnected_?"

"I'm not sleeping with Puck," Quinn says, exasperated; she is quite frankly tired of defending her strictly platonic relationship with Puck to Rachel. "And I really don't think that's something I have to be defending to you,"

"No, you're completely right. Both you and Noah and adults; what you do is your business, however, I do think your relationship might be confusing for Harmony—"

"Harmony likes Puck! He's been teaching her how to play guitar,"

"And that's great, but I've been meaning to discuss this with you for a while now. I actually think it'd be a really good idea if Harmony moved in with me,"

"You're kidding me!"

If Rachel were still angry, if she were still hysterical, if she were still in disbelief even, then Quinn would understand this sudden decision, but she's not; she's completely calm which makes this all the more unbelievable.

"She won't leave," Quinn insists. "She's at one of the best performing arts schools in the country; you wouldn't take her away from that,"

"We're in New York; most of the performing arts high schools around here ranks as some of the best in the country. I've actually already talked to the vocal professor at the school nearest my house and he has some wonderful ideas on how to improve her vocal range,"

"And what about Sugar? I just told you there in some kind of relationship. She won't leave her,"

"She'll adjust. She can visit you on the weekends, we'll split holidays; we can work something out,"

"And if I don't agree to this?"

"Well, I was hoping we could discuss this like adults and draw up a fair resolution. I really don't want to have to take this through the legal system. It wouldn't be good for Harmony or either of our reputations,"

The last thing Quinn hears as she storms out of the room is Rachel calling after her, but she doesn't trust herself not to say something she won't regret right now so she continues walking.

She's fuming as she finds her way into an empty hospital waiting room and it takes mere moments for her anger to slowly give way to sadness until she's crying stinging tears into her hands.

Her life so suddenly feels like it's spinning off of its axis right now and usually, when she feels like this, she'd call Brittany and with Brittany's steady patience and unwavering impartiality, they'd talk it out until she's calmer.

With that option already ripped away from her, she calls the only other person she can think of who'd be glad to comfort her in a situation like this.

She calls Puck.

**TBC… **

**So, guys, first off, this update took forever, sorry about that. RL sucks sometimes =o but thanks to everyone who has read, commented, favorite, put this story on alert, etc. so far! I think I'm gonna keep this format, moving back and forth between Sugar, Harmony and Brittany in the past which will follow canon very closely and then back to Quinn and Rachel in the future-y present. Do you guys like that format? Tell me what you think! Review please! **


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